The Hunted Detective ΙΙ
by Jinx2016
Summary: Sherlock had met The Doctor and Clara before the Slitheen had come hunting for him, but what happened? How was Clara killed? What happened to the sonic screwdrivers holding her life force? And more importantly...What happened to Sherlock Holmes?/ Prequel&Sequel of Hunted Detective.
1. The Lonely Boy and the Lonely Madman

**Hunted Detective ΙΙ**

**The Lonely Boy and the Lonely Madman**

_1982,_

_Dear Journal or however this is supposed to go,_

_I don't know why our butler Stanley got this journal for me. He said it may help me, but I don't understand what he means. He said I'd understand when I'm older, but for Pete's sake I am not a child anymore! I am six years old! I don't see this journal gaining anything at all. Nothing happens to me after all._

_-SH_

* * *

Sherlock swung his feet under him as he sat in the tall oak tree sitting smack dab in the very middle of the rose hedge maze running right outside Holmes Manor. He liked coming out here. Mycroft could never find his way to the center without cheating so that meant no annoying older brother. He stared up at the stars sitting high above, counting each and every one of them.

"Master Sherlock! Master Sherlock, it's time for bed!" Stanley shouted out from the entrance of the maze. Sherlock rolled his eyes. Bedtime was so trivial and dull. He gained nothing from sleep other than countless nightmares. The young boy with raven black curls slumped down further into his tree, closing his eyes and letting the sound of the wind and ruffling flower petals drowned out the sound of his butler.

"Ello there!" a cheery voice shouted from bellow. Sherlock jumped in surprise by the suddenness of the voice, losing his balance and slipping from his perch in the tree. He cried out, reaching for a branch to grab, but it was futile. He closed his eyes and let his arms spread out, welcoming death's arms. Arms then wrapped around Sherlock's small frame, but they were not death's. "You alright, Sherly?" his savior asked. Sherlock's blue eyes popped open, looking up into the face of a man with brown hair and a big bow tie. His big old eyes were warm to look in, but there was something frightening behind the warm glow.

"Don't call me that," Sherlock said simply, jumping from the man's arms and rushing to a bush being overpowered by the vines from the bushes. The man didn't move from his spot when Sherlock raced away. He simply stood where he was, smiling kindly at the six year old. Sherlock looked him over, using his power of deductions, but confusion instantly struck his brilliant mind. This man was utterly impossible to read. Granted, a fool could be able to tell that the man wasn't from here and that he was much older than he appeared, but other than that everything else was hidden to him and he really didn't like that. He's always been able to read a stranger's life story without even stopping for breath and now he has found the one person he could not.

Interesting.

"My name's The Doctor," the man stated simply, clearly knowing that Sherlock was trying to read him. "I've come to deliver a message." Sherlock frowned, tilting his head to the side.

"Doctor who?" the six year old asked. The Doctor's mouth quirked up with a bright smile and he gave Sherlock a quick wink.

"Spoilers." Sherlock frowned at the word. Spoilers? What was that supposed to mean? Shaking his head, Sherlock brought his attention back to the rest of the Doctor's sentence. Why would a stranger have a message for him? As if he had read the child's mind, The Doctor began speaking. He gave a time, date, and place. Sherlock felt the horrible emotion of confusion as the madman rattled off the date. This made no sense! It's 1982, not 1992! Was this man crazy or something? How could he be bringing a message for something ten years in the future? Sherlock popped open his mouth, but The Doctor was already walking down the maze. Without hesitation, Sherlock followed close behind. The Doctor smiled at the boy as they walked down the maze. The six year old watched the man turn through the maze with ease in surprise. He had been the only one in the Holmes manor who could actually find his way through this maze, but now here was a man who was walking though it like he was floating gracefully on air. "Why do you come out here, Sherlock?" Any normal child would have wondered how a stranger could know his name, but Sherlock was not one of these simple minded children with the common rule _'don't talk to strangers'_ drilled into his head. He was far more than that. His name and picture was plastered all over the papers of today. The Holmes family was one of the richest families in London so of course they would be in the media more than others so it was obvious this man knew his name. "Sherlock?" Sherlock snapped from his thoughts and turned his head up to The Doctor.

"Just…getting away," Sherlock said, choosing his words with care. The Doctor sent him a sympathetic smile.

"Doesn't it get lonely?" the madman asked gently. Sherlock's heart clenched at that and he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at the man with big blue eyes. He could feel tears building up slowly behind his eyes, but he forced them back as much as he could. No, he was a Holmes. A Holmes does not show weakness. He turned away from the man he had been speaking to, not wanting to continue this conversation. The Doctor gently pressed a hand to Sherlock's shoulder. "I get lonely too," he whispered into Sherlock's ear. The six year old looked up at the man now, startled to see a flood of emotion burst from The Doctor's eyes and spread throughout the body. He saw pain and suffering, Loyalty and betrayal, pride and loss. They were all the emotions Sherlock tried so hard to hide behind the mask he made so young as a child. It hurt so much to let them out and sometimes Sherlock wondered if one day they would bring his doom. Sherlock's old nurse maid had always told him that he was too young to think like that, but he really wasn't. Everyday someone dies, is betrayed, hurt, and lost. Everyday someone suffers from pain. It's only a matter of time and thinking over such ideas may one day help him survive. That had always been what the child believed and now staring at this broken man in front of him Sherlock knew he was right.

"Doctor-"

"Here she is!" the Doctor exclaimed in excitement, rushing to a blue box resting on next to the entrance of the maze. Sherlock frowned at it, turning his head side to side. He had read about police boxes before, but what was one doing here? He watched as The Doctor clicked his fingers together, causing the great blue door to open wide, revealing the belly of the box. Sherlock's eyes widened and he rushed inside, staring at it with his mouth to the floor.

"It's…It's…"

"Bigger on the inside, smaller on the outside," The Doctor offered, smirking at Sherlock like this happens all the time. Sherlock swallowed, staring at the control panel before him.

"Impossible," Sherlock filled in, running his small hand gently against the edge of the control. The Doctor strolled to his side then, taking the child's hand and sliding it to a lever.

"This is my ship. It can take you anywhere you want, Sherlock. You can travel with me and never be lonely again." Sherlock stared at The Doctor with big eyes. Honesty was written all over the madman's face and Sherlock knew the man wasn't lying about this being a ship, but how could it be? He's never seen or read of such a find. It was _impossible_!

"What are you?" Sherlock asked, terror finally starting to boil through his blood as he began to piece things together. The Doctor didn't say anything. He just waited for Sherlock to answer his question. The small boy stared at their hands on the lever. He wanted to run away so bad. He wanted to leave the manor so much. He wanted to forget Mycroft and the others. "I can't," Sherlock murmured softly, stepping back to the doors. The Doctor didn't argue. He simply followed Sherlock out, leaning on the door.

"Are you sure?" he asked. Sherlock nodded, knowing that running away was never the answer. That was at least one thing that his parents had succeeded in teaching him. His heart clenched as the thought of his parents came to mind and he lowered his eyes to the grass bellow his shoes. The Doctor didn't make to argue or try to pull Sherlock on. The madman leaned down, pulling the child's chin up so he could stare into the ice blue irises. The Doctor brushed away a runaway tear from the small boy's cheek. He repeated his question one last time and Sherlock once again declined. "Alright then!" The Doctor shouted, straitening his bow tie. I shall see you again Sherlock, you can count on that. If you ever wish to travel with me all you have to do is follow those instructions I gave you previously," The Doctor told him. Sherlock nodded, knowing that it would be quite a long while before then.

"Goodbye, Doctor," Sherlock stated. The Doctor gave a quick wave before closing the doors. A noise erupted from the box and wind picked up around the area. Sherlock gasped as the box slowly de-materialized. This was impossible indeed.

* * *

_1982,_

_Dear notebook that may be some use after all,_

_I met someone today. A madman. He left out of nowhere in a blue box, speaking of a fate for me ten years in my future. I hope I have made the right decision not to go with him. He's crazy, but there he did not lie to me once. But how do I know that he isn't going to just dump me off somewhere or hurt me?! It's not like this wouldn't be the first time I gave someone my trust and they left me. I'm not stupid. No, when the time comes I shall ignore his call._

_-SH _

* * *

**So here is the prequel/sequel to The Hunted Detective. This story shall tell the tale of Sherlock's first meeting the Doctor to where Clara 'died' and then pick up again to right after where the last chapter left off in the first part ( I will let you know when that happens). Not sure how often I will be posting now that school is in just a few days, but I'll try. Just keep your eyes open! Anywho…hope you all enjoy!**


	2. Green Monsters in the LIbrary

**The Hunted Detective Part ΙΙ**

**Green Monsters in the Library**

_1992,_

_Dear Journal,_

_It has been a while since I have written in your old pages. Ten years to be exact. What once were the idiotic squiggles of a six year old are now the fine literature of a sixteen year old teenager. Anyway, to the point. Mycroft's never home and all I have is you and Stanley. Oh, well. I guess it's better than nothing. Yet, sometimes I wonder where I would be if I had gone with that madman in his box. I wonder now if maybe he wasn't just some sick murderer. Maybe he had been telling the truth. If he had…then I wish I could see him again and take up his offer. I can't take being alone any longer._

_-SH_

* * *

Sherlock walked down the silent halls of the Holmes manor, shoes clopping all the way. He had finished his studies, practiced his violin, and annoyed everyone working in the large manor. Now he was bored and when he was bored a few shots taken to the wall seemed to be one of the greatest cures. First he would have to retrieve the guns from the secret compartment in the library. That would be simple enough. Then he could steal some paint from the workers and paint himself a target. Oh, what fun! He could just picture his brother's face when he returned. Serves him right for being gone all the time. What was so special about his job? It's not like he's ruling all of Britain! He could show his face at home once and a while. Sherlock stopped in his tracks, clutching his fists to his sides. Where did that come from? Since when did he even care about his brother? It was _good_ that he was away. He couldn't annoy Sherlock or make him do studies and other tedious things. With a sigh Sherlock continued walking, till he came to the big doors leading to the library. His long fingers paused at the handle, noticing that the doors were open just a crack. Sherlock frowned, staring at the door for a moment, but quickly shook his head. Was he really bored enough to deduce a _door_? Really? Is this what it has come to? He pressed against the doors, letting them fling open dramatically. He took a step in, slipping on something wet and sticky the very second his foot collided with the ground. He let out a surprised shriek, hands flying up to try and catch himself, but he just landed hard against his back. Sherlock gasped as his head smack roughly against the hard wood floor.

"What the hell-"Sherlock broke off, glancing at the substance beneath him. His heart galloped at the sight of red liquid surrounding his pale form. Eyes widening, he jumped away from the pool of blood, leaning against the door. His head spun at the quick movement, but he ignored it. Dizziness was not his problem at this very second. Lying on the floor was Stanley. The old man's white hair and black suit were stained in the horrid liquid, but he was still alive. "Stanley…"

"Master Sherlock, run!" Stanley yelped, reaching a hand out towards the teenager. Sherlock frowned at his dying butler. He was too shocked to move. Wh…what happened? Had someone broken in? How could that happen? This manor had the greatest protection in all of London! "Master, Please!" Stanley choked out.

"Yes, little master, run away…lead us to our prey," hissed something from the shadows of the room. Sherlock's eyes popped up, his breath catching in his throat at the sight before him. A large green creature with dark eyes and huge claws stood in the light now. in its horrible claws was one of the maids, weeping in terror. The creature turned his head to the side, smiling at Sherlock cruelly before squeezing the maid's neck, crushing her instantly. Sherlock let out a cry as his maid crumpled to the floor dead. His eyes flew back up to the creature who had committed the crime.

"W…what are you?" Sherlock stuttered for maybe the first time in his life. Fear was actually visible through his well-built mask. The creature laughed at boy.

"We are the Slitheen and you my lad are next!" Sherlock's world instantly shattered at those words. We? Sherlock's eyes flew around to where another two creatures standing over the kitchen servants. The creature lunged at Sherlock, but he jumped out of the way, running out of the library and down the hall. He cried out in terror, throwing everything he could in order to slow down the monsters. Finally, he came to his room and locked the doors shut behind him. Not wasting a single second, he typed in his brothers number, praying that Mycroft would pick up just this once.

"_I'm sorry; I cannot come to the phone right now. Please leave a message after the beep-"_

"MYCROFT!" Sherlock screamed into the phone, tears building in his eyes. "Please, Brother, just pick up the damn phone! Stanley…he…he's been hurt and Miss Cleveland….OH GOD! Mycroft, she's dead! It killed her right in front of me!" Sherlock let out a horrified sob, shivering in the corner of the room as he stared down the door leading to his hiding spot. "It's coming for me, Mye! Please, help me! It's going to kill me!" Sherlock pleaded, dropping the phone and burying his face into his hands. The image of the rose maze popped up behind his eyes then. The Doctor was smiling at him, rambling off coordinates at high speed. Sherlock's head popped up from his hands and a hand pulled the small journal from the inside pocket of his coat. He flipped it open, reading his six year old self's handwriting carefully.

_August 2, 1992 at Speedy's café 5:15 _

Sherlock bolted from where he was, pulling on his coat and yanking the window leading to the outside open. He stared down, knowing very well that jumping from his window was much higher then the three in the yard. He was on the third floor of the manor, but what other choice did he have.

BANG!

Sherlock flinched as the Slitheens slapped their fists into his door, trying to push it down. There was no time to waste. He needed The Doctor. If he was anything like he showed himself to be the last time they met then he was Sherlock's only hope of survival. With that, Sherlock took in a deep breath and jumped just as the door burst open.

* * *

_Dear Journal,_

_I'm going to find him. I must come to his call._


	3. The Meeting at Speedy's Cafe

**Hunted Detective ΙΙ**

_**The Meeting at Speedy's Café** _

_Dear Journal,_

_I've escaped the manor, but I don't know how much longer I can run. My feet feel like jelly and the ache in my head hurts horribly. Oh, Doctor, please be there. Please don't let me down._

_-SH_

* * *

The cool silent night in London was as peaceful as the sound of a cooing mourning dove. The wind was soft and warm to the touch like a gentle kiss and the sunset glittered with purples and fine oranges. Most people would stop and stare at the beautiful sight, but Sherlock Holmes wasn't most people and he certainly couldn't stop with a Slitheen chasing after him.

The Café was doing well tonight. It wasn't packed, but at least they had a few costumers tonight. Everyone was eating their dinner peacefully when the doors burst open, sending harsh wind through the café. Sherlock collapsed to the floor, breathing heavier than he had ever done in his life. People glared at him over their menu's and the owner stepped over to his side.

"Boy, this isn't some playground. You better get yourself back-"Sherlock clutched his long skinny fingers around the man's coat caller.

"Please, I need The Doctor! Where is he?!" he cried. The owner of the café frowned at Sherlock, glancing worriedly at his other customers, who were all watching the terrified teenager. Bruising was visible all over the teenagers body and blood was slowly dripping from the side of his head, but the strange angle his ankle was twisted is what made his gut twist. Child services were going to get a phone call tonight for sure.

"You better come with me, Son," the owner stated, grabbing Sherlock's wrist a little too tightly. The child pulled away, shouting for The Doctor with all his might. No, this can't be. He was right on time! Where was he? Had he deserted him too now just like everyone else?!

"I'm here, Sherlock," said a familiar voice from behind. Sherlock looked up to see a man in a bow tie and dark coat walk over from his chair in the corner of the cafe.

"Doctor!" Sherlock gasped, flinging himself into the man's arms. The Doctor caught him, holding the child tightly in his grip. His hands gently rubbed circles into the teen's back in attempt to calm him, but Sherlock only kept trembling. He had no strength left to keep up his mask and hide his emotions. That jump from the window had not only busted his ankle, but also wore him to the point of exhaustion. The Doctor glanced around the café, realizing that all eyes were on him. They had to get out of here and fast. He made his way towards the door, holding Sherlock's face into his shoulder.

"Hey, stop!" the owner of Speedy's shouted, reaching a hand out. The Doctor turned, smiling gently at the owner of the café. Humans; they all are so protective of children even when the child isn't their own. "Who are you?" the owner asked.

"I'm the Doctor," the madman stated before disappearing from the café. Sherlock looked up from The Doctor's shoulder as the madman ran down the alleyway behind the café to the safety of his blue box. On entering they found themselves running into a girl with brown hair and a cup of tea in her hands. All three of them toppled over, landing on the floor of the TARDIS. Sherlock looked up from the floor, staring blurry eyed at the girl now hovering over him. Her blouse was stained with tea, but her attention was focused on him.

"Is this Sherlock when he was…" She trailed off when The Doctor nodded and slowly reached out towards the boy. Sherlock looked up at her with big frightened blue, and the girl smiled. "Hello, Sherlock, my name is Clara Oswald," she said kindly. Sherlock looked her over. Unlike The Doctor she was simple to read. She works as a governess, makes soufflés, lost someone she loved long ago…it's a never ending story. Still, her eyes are honest and trustworthy. She didn't look at him like he was some freak like most people did. Clara held her hands out again and this time Sherlock let her scoop him into her. He buried his face into her shoulder, breathing in the faint smell of flour and other baking ingredients. He didn't know why he felt like he could trust her. It was like something tied the two of them together somehow. She ran her fingers through his curls, trying to calm his shivering body. He swore to himself. He couldn't stop shaking, the image of his dying butler and maid still playing over and over through his mind like a tape recorder.

"Doctor, he's bleeding!" Clara gasped, pulling her now red fingers from Sherlock's hair. Her eyes scanned the rest of him, falling on the boy's broken ankle. Her eyes widened, mouth falling to the floor. Sherlock looked up at the two, swaying in Clara's arms. "What happened to him?" The Doctor took him from Clara, carrying the boy down the hall to one of the guest bedrooms.

"S…Slitheen," Sherlock gasped, trying to stay awake. Clara and the Doctor's eyes widen in surprise.

"So…it's begun," The Doctor hissed, racing out of the bedroom and leaving Clara to care for the teenager.

* * *

_Dear Journal, _

_I found The Doctor and a girl named Clara. I don't understand why, but I feel like I can trust her. Maybe even more than I can trust The Doctor. The madman is younger than the first time I met him years ago, but I'm too tired to try and find the answers. Everything is swirling. I don't think I can stay awake any longer._

_-SH _


	4. The Doctor and His Companion

**Hunted Detective ΙΙ**

**The Time Lord and His Companion**

_"Mye!" Sherlock screamed as he ran down the halls of the manor. Blood was still on his clothes from slipping on Stanley's pool of blood. The sixteen year old wiped the tears from his eyes as fear began to build up in his small body. Why wasn't Mycroft with him? How could his brother leave him alone?_

_"Run, little master. Lead us to our prey," hissed a voice as fat fingers wrapped around Sherlock's scrawny neck. The child screamed, but the green hand only squeezed tighter._

"Sherlock, Sweetie, just breath!" Clara soothed, rubbing a hand up and down against Sherlock's back as he snapped out of his nightmare. The woman Clara was at his side, trying to comfort his shaking form and he clung on. The feeling of safety seemed to warm inside of him when Clara was near him. He blinked his eyes a few times to get rid of the dark shapes in his eyes. Clara smiled at him sweetly when he finally stopped shaking. He sat up, looking around the bedroom he was now lying in. He was sleeping in a bunk bed with blue sheets. The walls were lined in books and billions of clocks. He raised a hand to his head, flinching at the throbbing pain that flooded through him. "Hey, take it easy. You had one nasty hit on the head," Clare cooed, pressing an ice pack to his head. Sherlock winced slightly, but then eased into the coolness of the pack.

"I'm in The Doctor's Police Box correct?" Sherlock asked, allowing his eyes to look around the room once again. Clara looked around with him.

"Yeah…about that," Clara mused. "It's called the TARDIS and it's actually a time/space machine." Sherlock let out a high laugh, not understanding if it was because realization was all suddenly crashing down on him or if it was because of how absurd it sounded said out loud.

"So now what?" Sherlock asked, staring down at his hands as his laughing quieted. Clara frowned.

"Ummm…well, you took that well," Clara gaped. Sherlock's head shot up, blue eyes meeting her soft brown ones.

"I saw my maid killed and my butler severely injured by a green creature. I believe that there is no way for me to deny what I saw." Clara's face fell into a sway of concern and Sherlock turned away, not wanting her pity.

"Sherlock…" Here it comes. "How about you and I take a trip to the TARDIS library?" Clara finished. Sherlock frowned, turning to stare at her in confusion.

"What? No _'everything will be ok'_? No _'I'm here for you if you want to talk about it'_ or something?" Sherlock questioned. Clara smiled at him, leaning closer to him so they were nose to nose.

"Want to know a secret?" she asked. Sherlock nodded, listening silently. Brushing a curl from his face she whispered. "I think you want a distraction; that's more of your type of comfort right?" Sherlock stared at her wide eyes. Mycroft had been the only one to understand that, but now this woman who never met him does as well? That could only mean one thing.

"You know I'm a freak then? How did you find out?"

"Sherlock-"

"It's fine. I'm used to it. It's true. I can look at you and know about your entire life, but in the end It just leads to me getting in more trouble."

"Sherlock, stop calling yourself that!" Clara barked. The teen didn't look at her. "You are a Holmes! Sherlock Holmes and you have the greatest mind in the world. You just need to learn to use it." Clara grinned as surprise lit up Sherlock's face, like she had been waiting for it and reached out her hand. Sherlock just stared at it for a second before pushing away her hand and jumping off his bed. His wrapped up ankle gave out and Clara caught him in a tight embrace before he could hit the floor. "Whoa, whoa, take it easy!" Clara yelped, holding the 16 year old for a second until he could finally hold himself on his feet.

"Why should I take it easy when I've been doing everything, but easy since those things came after me?" Sherlock moaned. A sad smile spread across Clara's face then and Sherlock wondered what he had said wrong. She let out a small breath before taking Sherlock's hand.

"Because J…." another sad smile broke across her face. "Because if you get hurt The Doctor is going to kill me," she finished. This earned her a soft chuckle from the teenager and a squeeze of her hand. She looked down at the raven black haired boy as they strolled down the room and Sherlock looked up at her. Sherlock could see why he liked her now.

* * *

_Dear Journal,_

_This Clara girl is someone I just can't explain. She called me the greatest mind in the world? What was that about? I'm just…me. There is something I do know about Clara, though. She's hiding something and I intend to find out what it is. _

_-SH_

* * *

**HELLO! Yes, I am alive. been busy lately, but I found some time to write up a chapter for you all. Thanks for reading ad reviewing! I'll try to get another chapter written as soon as I can.**


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